


The Christening

by Philomytha



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Time Period: Vorkosigan Regency, comment-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomytha/pseuds/Philomytha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Lanna's prompt: Aral and Illyan, 'I didn't promise it was idiot-proof'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christening

Aral jumped dripping down the hatch, shrugging off solicitous ImpSec personnel. Illyan followed him into the cabin, claiming a stack of towels from one of the orderlies as he went.

"You told me it would be easy." Aral closed the door behind them. "Very easy."

"It should have been," Illyan retorted, passing Aral a towel. Aral began to rub his hair dry, then looked at his unform in resignation. "Your Armsman's gone to get you a change of clothes," Illyan added.

"Just break a bottle over your new river patrolboat," Aral continued. "It'll only take five minutes, you said, it'll make a nice change from committee meetings, and the men will appreciate the Regent coming himself."

"They do appreciate it," Illyan answered. "And we know it works now, too."

"I thought it was for patrolling around Vorhartung Castle, not fishing people out of the water." Aral peeled off his jacket and wrung it out splashily over the floor, then followed suit with the tunic.

"They can do both."

"Just go down on the pontoon, make a short speech, break the bottle over the boat and get on with my day. And here I am." He unbuttoned his shirt and took a second towel from Illyan to wrap around his shoulders, then took off his boots, pouring about a pint of water from each with a grimace.

The image replayed itself irresistibly in Illyan's mind. Aral reaching a little too far, the pontoon rocking, Aral overbalancing, splashing into the river. Illyan's initial horror had been mirrored by the utter panic on the faces of the river patrolmen, followed by--and that made him a little pleased--competent action to fish the Lord Regent out again. And now that Aral was here and clearly unharmed, Illyan could allow his second reaction to escape. He chuckled.

"I did say it would be easy," he said. "Just not idiot-proof. Next time we'll tie you to something first."

"Next time," Aral countered, "I'll break the bottle over your head." He attempted to glower at Illyan, but his expression gradually cracked. Shaking the last drops of water from his boots, he sat down with a squelch on a chair, threw back his head and laughed. "The worst thing is," he said, "this is still more fun than committee meetings. Perhaps we should try it again."


End file.
